Breastmilk and Buttermilk Wheat Rolls

Ryan and I attended a breastfeeding class yesterday. As Ryan put it, “magical.”

I think he might have been joking…but then again, we both agreed the class had been eye-opening and encouraging. And there was something special, something magical even, about sitting in a room with six other pregnant women, our bellies in varying stages of distention. We had our partners at our side, our hands on our stomachs, as we talked about what it meant to give our growing babies nurturence once they left our wombs.

And isn’t it amazing how we, women, go from such competent care-takers (baby inside belly) to flustered and awkward new mamas (baby outside belly)?

I, for one, am so thankful for all the resources available to new moms. The classes, the conversations, the online forums, and the wisdom handed down from one mother to one daughter, generation after generation.

Ryan and I learned that when Lucy finally arrives, she’ll want one thing above any other: food. And because babies are amazing creatures, she’ll be able to find her way to my breast, latch on, and grow into the child she’s meant to be. How incredible.

But as I think about our daughter and how simple yet beautiful that exchange will be, I’m also struck by how complicated life gets once you leave your mother’s breast. How easy it is to hurt those you love. How quickly life can turn from safe to scary. We go from babies who need just three simple things (food, comfort, and warmth) to adults who, no matter how hard we try, are never truly satisfied.

I have to admit that I foolishly thought having a baby would ease the pain and dissatisfaction in my own heart. And in some ways, the miracle of Lucy’s existence has healed me. But this baby can’t bring back my sister, or remove the pain of losing two family members to suicide. She can’t undo all the ills I’ve done or all the wounds I’ve received at the hands of others.

And so I’m finding, just like a newborn baby, that there is only one person, one being, who can touch the deepest and most primal needs of my soul. In the quiet moments, in the dark moments, I’ve found the still, soft voice of Someone Beyond (yet always nearby). And like a baby with its mother, I let myself receive all that is being so generously given. Without question. Without explanation.

(And yes, these rolls are as good as they look. No breast milk required)

Buttermilk Wheat Rolls

Yields: 24 rolls

1/2 cup lukewarm water
2 cups warm buttermilk ( 100 – 110°F)
3 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon salt
2 1/2 tablespoons yeast, instant preferred
5 cups all-purpose flour
1-2 cups whole wheat flour

Combine the water, buttermilk, butter, sugar, salt and yeast in a large bowl, or the bowl of your stand mixer. Stir well and let sit for 6 to 8 minutes, or until you see the yeast begin to foam.

Add 5 cups of all-purpose flour and mix by hand or with the paddle attachment until the dough forms a rough, shaggy mass. The dough will not form a ball at this point, but will be just shy of coming together.

Add whole wheat flour, 1/2 cup at a time and blend with the dough hook until a smooth ball begins to form. Knead by hand for about 10 minutes, or by machine for 4 to 5 minutes until a soft, smooth ball of dough is formed. The dough should feel elastic and slightly tacky to the touch.

Lightly spray your work bowl with cooking spray and place the dough in the bowl. Spritz the top of the dough with spray as well and cover lightly with plastic wrap or a shower cap. Let rise for 20 minutes at room temperature or until the dough is full and puffy.

Gently deflate the dough and pat out to a rough rectangle about 8 inches by 12 inches. Cut the dough into 4 long strips, then cut each strip into 6 portions for a total of 24 dough balls. Shape each dough ball into three smaller balls. Place three balls in a well-greased muffin tin (you will need two muffin pans for a total of 24 rolls).

Cover loosely with plastic wrap and allow to rise until rounded and puffy. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Bake rolls in preheated oven for 20 minutes, or until just golden brown. Rolls can be brushed with melted butter while cooling.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Blueberry “Cinnamon” Rolls

There are days when I just can’t stop myself. A dozen muffins. A batch of cinnamon rolls. A pot of black bean soup. I woke up yesterday with the firm belief that my kitchen could solve most, if not all, of my ills. Several hours later, after bowls had been washed at least two or three times and my counter was covered with cooling racks, I sat down to write this post. And sure enough, I felt far better than I had first thing that morning.

Ryan and I are still adjusting to Colorado’s weather, and it has been too cold for my liking the past few weeks. Granted, most of my winter clothes no longer fit (thanks Lucy!) so bundling up has been a challenge. In Austin, Ryan and I would walk constantly. We’d walk to the store, we’d walk to dinner, we’d walk when we woke up, and we’d walk before we went to bed. I’m beginning to realize how much I miss Austin’s more temperate weather!

But…thankfully the colder weather does encourage my other coping mechanism–baking. Because there’s nothing like looking out of your kitchen window to see birds float down just as gracefully as the snow falling. Couple that sight with the smell of your first batch of cookies in the oven and you’re pretty close to heaven.

At our last hypnobirthing class we talked about what our babies experience in the womb. I was reminded how important it is to handle stress in positive ways. When I get upset or angry, my baby receives some of those stress hormones through my placenta. Likewise, when I do something I love (walking, baking, talking to Ryan or my mom) Lucy receives the same feel-good endorphins that I do. So today, as I processed change and uncertainty, I wielded a wooden spoon. When my mind grew cluttered with all the things still left undone, I remembered that this was the time for Lucy and me to unwind and take care of ourselves.

What came from my relaxation therapy today? These beautiful and moist blueberry “cinnamon” rolls. I took my favorite breakfast pastry dough and added a generous helping of frozen blueberries. Instead of the typical brown-sugar/cinnamon combo, I brushed melted butter, lemon juice, and granulated sugar over my rectangle of dough. Carefully, I rolled it into a long log which was then cut into twelve equal pieces. The smells that wafted from my oven were like the best of both worlds. The warmth of winter coupled with the freshness of summer.

Blueberry “Cinnamon” Rolls

2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2/3 cup frozen blueberries
1/2 cup butter, melted
Juice from one lemon
1/2 cup granulated sugar

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. In a small saucepan, heat the buttermilk until warm to the touch.

In the bowl of your stand mixer, combine buttermilk, and yeast mixture; mix well. In a smaller bowl, whisk together the flour, salt and baking soda. Stir the flour mixture into the liquid 1 cup at a time, until a soft dough forms. Add in frozen blueberries. Knead dough with dough hook for 5-8minutes. Alternately, turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead. Cover and let rest for 15 minutes. In a small bowl, stir together the butter and lemon juice.

On a well-floured surface, roll dough out into a large rectangle. Spread the lemon butter mixture over the dough and sprinkle generously with granulated sugar. Roll up into a log and pinch the seam to seal. Slice into 1 inch pieces and place cut side up in a lightly greased 10×15 baking pan. Cover and let rise 30 minutes or cover and refrigerate overnight. If baking immediately, preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

Bake in preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes, until golden brown. Meanwhile, make glaze. Whisk together 1 cup powdered sugar with 4-6 teaspoons of lemon juice. Once rolls are finished baking, pour glaze over top. Let stand for 2 to 3 minutes before serving.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Spicy Pear Cake

We’re 23 weeks now, and I’m happily resting in the middle of my second trimester. As I thought about the past few weeks, I found myself categorizing. Good and bad. Love and hate. Why the mind tends towards binaries, I don’t fully know. But I thought I’d share my list with you.

Loves:

Feeling Lucy move. At about 13 weeks, I felt a few random pops in my lower abdomen. If anyone asked, I would say it felt like popcorn popping. But now that we’re ten weeks further along, I can actually feel AND see the jolts that her growing limbs produce. Her favorite time to move is around nine in the evening (right after I eat my most recent pregnancy craving–a slightly underripe banana) and Ryan rests his hand on my belly so he too can feel our daughter.

Kindness of strangers. I finally look unmistakingly pregnant, which means that strangers are now wishing me good luck and their heartiest of congratulations. I’m sure that the belly touching and due-date asking will grow old, but right now I’m happy to share my good news with anyone who might be interested.

Hynobirthing. Ryan and I started our hynobirthing class in early February, and we’ve already learned so much. We’re hoping for a natural birth, and I’m learning tools to help my body and mind relax during the labor process. Our instructor is interesting, engaging, and knowledgable. If anyone in Colorado Springs is looking for a birthing class or a doula, I’d be happy to pass along her information!

Appetite. I’m hungry. All the time. And I’m finally craving food that I know is good for me and baby. Whole grains, fresh veggies and fruit, lean protein, and cheese (lots and lots of cheese).

Hates (or as my father would admonish me to say instead–Strong Dislikes):

Lack of sleep. I’m already not sleeping well, which I hear only gets worse. I’m able to fall asleep easily, but I wake several times during the night, and I no longer can sleep in past 6:30 am. This is fine, mostly, but Ryan and I are trying to catch up on all the Oscar nominated films for 2013 (which means our bed-time has been pushed back and hour or two later).

Bleeding gums and nose. Progesterone is making the vessels in my nose and mouth more susceptible to bleeding. Couple that hormone with a dry climate, and I have had my fair share of bloody tissues.

Nesting. Normally, nesting would be fun. Not so much when all of your belongings are still in boxes.

Pregnancy brain. I’ve heard that pregnancy brain is a myth, but I think otherwise. I’ve definitely noticed an increase in forgetfulness, which isn’t ideal considering that this is my last semester of graduate school and I have a hefty thesis to defend in a few weeks.

So there’s my list at 23 weeks. What I love and dislike about being pregnant. But at the end of the day, I’m so grateful for this little life inside of me, and I’ve felt a deeper connection to my family, Ryan, and God because of this gift. There is purpose in both our joys and our struggles, and I’m learning to embrace both each day.

Before I leave, I want to share one of my family favorite recipes. Spicy Pear Cake. We make this every fall and winter, and it always receives rave reviews from both veteran eaters (my parents, sisters, Ryan) and those that are trying it for the first time. This bread is chock-full of pears. In fact, pears are the weightiest ingredient in this recipe so each bite is moist and sweet.

Because this cake calls for so many pears, it does have a tendency to be more difficult during pan removal. For that reason, I often recommend first-time bakers to pour this into a loaf pan instead of a bundt pan. My family eats our spicy pear cake without any extra additions, but I recently tried the Pioneer Woman’s maple cream sauce on a straggler slice and found it to be even more decadent and delicious. So if you have a sweet tooth, I’d definitely recommend you give her recipe a try along with this one.

Spicy Pear Cake

1 cup raisins (dark or golden)
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon each ground cloves and ground allspice
2 cups peeled pear chunks (from about 2 large pears)

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease a 10-inch bundt pan OR a standard loaf pan. Dust with flour. Place the raisins in a bowl and toss them with 2 tablespoons of the flour until lightly coated (this will prevent them from sinking in the cake).

2. Beat your eggs and sugar in a mixer until fluffy. While the mixer runs on low, slowly pour in the vanilla and the oil. In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, salt, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and allspice. Blend into the egg mixture. Stir in the pears and the raisins by hand, distributing them evenly in the batter.

3. Spoon into prepared pan and bake for around 45 to 60 minutes, until springy and dry in the center. Let cool COMPLETELY in the pan on a wire rack, then turn it out. Freeze until ready to use or just wrap and store for up to 2 days.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Sweet Berry Cupcakes

On days when I need a fresh towel, I open the cabinet beneath my sink and I’m confronted with what I call “the box of disappointment.” There, beside the towels, sits an unopened box of pregnancy tests. For over a year, maybe even two, I took at least one pregnancy test each month. Ryan could always tell I had taken one just by looking at my face.

Not only did month after month go by with no positive pregnancy test, but month after month went by without me even bleeding. My doctors quickly gave me two options: birth control or fertility treatment. According to our specialist, the complex interplay between my brain and my ovaries had malfunctioned. And it could be a permanent problem.

So when I found out I was pregnant with Lucy, I was sitting in a doctor’s office. I didn’t have a positive pregnancy test to wave in front of Ryan’s face. I didn’t have any private moments to digest what had happened inside my body. Instead, Ryan and I both stared at an ultrasound screen (they wanted to measure my uterus before starting any type of fertility treatment) and we both saw, together, the first picture of our baby girl.

And that one moment made all those hard months disappear.

Recently, there have been days where I’ve wanted to take a pregnancy test just so I can finally see the positive symbol in that white window. But then there is another part of me that is happy to leave all of that longing and pain sealed inside a paper box.

Ryan and I are celebrating Valentine’s Day tonight (we tend to do it one day early or one day late). And I’m happy to say that I’ve never felt more love between my husband and me. Many might assume that this little baby has something to do with it. And of course, they’re right. But only in part. Because I think what makes this year truly special is that Ryan and I have walked through some dark valleys, and we’re finally seeing the light, together.

These sweet berry cupcakes are a simple way to show the ones you love a little affection. I whipped these up on Saturday morning for a dear friend’s party…and they couldn’t have been prettier or more delicious.

Sweet Berry Cupcakes

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp coarse salt
2/3 cups fresh or frozen strawberries or raspberries (thawed if frozen)
¼ cup milk
1 tsp almond extract
½ cup butter (room temperature)
1 cup sugar
1 egg
2 egg whites

½ cup butter (room temperature)
2 TBSP honey
1 ½ cups powdered sugar
1-2 drops pink food coloring (optional)
1-2 ripe strawberries (finely diced)

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F. Grease or line a 12-cup muffin tin. Using a fork or a potato masher, puree your strawberries. You should have around 1/3 cup of strawberry puree. Alternatively, you can process your berries in a blender or food processor.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together your flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside. In a small bowl, combine your strawberry puree, your milk and your almond extract. Stir until combined.

3. In the bowl of your stand mixer, cream your butter on medium speed until light and fluffy. Add sugar and cream until well combined. Add egg whites and egg; stir until just blended.

4. With the mixer on low, add half of your flour mixture and mix until just combined. Then add your milk and strawberry mixture, and mix until blended. Add the remainder of your flour mixture, scraping down the sides if necessary, and stir until combined.

5. Divide your batter equally among prepared muffin tins. Bake in your preheated oven for 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Allow to cool in pan for around 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack.

For Frosting:

1. In the bowl of your stand mixer, cream butter and honey until light and fluffy. Add in your chopped strawberries and ¾ cup powdered sugar. Mix until combined. Add in the remaining ¾ cup of powder sugar and cream until light and fluffy.

2. Spread over cooled cupcakes.

Monet

Anecdotes and Apple Cores

Wholesome Bread Pudding

Ryan and I are waking now to sunrises and baby kicks. We open our blinds around 6:30am, and then we both lay in bed, feeling Lucy move. Cricket jumps from the window seat to our quilt. Margot stretches her legs across the floor, inching slowing towards her food. We’re a happy family here, and it feels right for this scene to be set against a backdrop of snow-covered mountains.

Ryan asked me if I missed Austin the other night. And my immediate, honest answer was “no.” I miss our friends in Austin, some of them dearly, but I don’t miss the heat, or the allergies, or the traffic. And while Lady Bird Lake is pretty, nothing compares to the sun setting behind the front range. Quite simply, Austin never became home.

I know many people who live far from family, far from the places that settle their hearts. Ryan and I did it for a few years, and I found it more taxing than I could have imagined. I wonder if everyone feels a special connection to a certain geographic landscape. I have friends who long to return to the northwest, where the land is wet and verdant. I have others who will never leave the east coast, the tiny town they grew up in. And then there are those who find their places later in life, maybe after moving several times. They finally settle in a city or a state that feels like home.

Ryan and I are still trying to figure out so many details here. I graduate with my M.F.A in May, Lucy is due in June, and we still haven’t found a house (the other one…the old, adorable one…fell through). There are moments in which I can feel a wave of panic rise. What are we doing here? Where are we going to live? Raise our daughter? But then I remember: I’m home. Ryan and I have our sweet familes surrounding us, supporting us. We have good, challenging jobs in the place where we grew up and grew to love. Lucy will be born into a world full of love, laughter, and uncertainty. And when I think about it, there is nothing more we can hope for in life. None of our days are guaranteed. So much good and bad can happen in a moment.

If Ryan and I have learned anything, it’s to hold onto each other. And so I think Lucille Amelia will be just fine.

This wholesome bread pudding served to alleviate my nerves yesterday afternoon. Moving around the kitchen, I forgot my stresses, and focused on the slow precision of my knife, slicing through day-old cranberry bread. I whisked together milk and eggs, sprinkled in just a handful of sugar, and imparted a hefty dose of cinnamon. Within fifteen minutes, the pudding was baking, and I felt calmer. Lucy also enjoyed the exercise. She responded with several strong kicks.

Wholesome Bread Pudding

8 slices artisan wheat bread (I used a cranberry walnut from Whole Foods)

2 tablespoons melted butter

4 eggs

2 cups whole milk

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease an 8-inch square baking pan with butter. Set aside.

2. Coarsely chop bread into bite-sized pieces (slightly stale bread is actually best for bread pudding.) Spread into prepared baking pan.

3. In a medium bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla and cinnamon. Pour over bread. Using a fork, push bread into egg mixture until almost fully covered. Bake in preheated oven for 45 minutes, or until pudding springs back slightly when touched. Serve warm with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.